The Doctor Dances
by avorialair
Summary: This is my take on what should have happened in the episode 'The Doctor Dances', when Rose and Doctor were alone in that basement waiting for Captain Jack. Ninth Doctor and Rose interaction.


**_Summary_**_: This is my take on what should have happened in the episode 'The Doctor Dances', when Rose and Doctor were alone in that basement waiting for Captain Jack. If you don't like Rose/Doctor, I really wouldn't bother. It's just... fluffy xD  
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**_Characters_**_: Rose Tyler, The Ninth Doctor, Captain Jack Harkness. Oh, and that strange kid, too.  
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**_Rating_**_: T, rated a couple of times for language but mostly for romance.  
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**_Words_**_: 3,272_

**_Genre_**_: Romance, Drama, Humour  
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**_Spoilers_**_: "The Doctor Dances" and "Emtpy Child". As if you couldn't already guess.  
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**_Setting_**_: The basement where the Doctor, Rose and Jack were trapped... until Jack did his nifty teleporting thing and left them alone.  
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**_Disclaimer_**_: Doctor Who is nothing of mine. All the BBC's creation and ownership. Believe me, it's something I cry about on a daily basis. But it's probably just as well, because I couldn't come up with the fantastic storylines anyway. _

**_A/N:_**_ Oh come on. You could see this in their eyes. I was reading the transcripts of old episodes, and this just had to be written. Mostly because I was chatting with Rach at the time about it, and then the idea leapt on me. This is dedicated to Rach, therefore, for being the best beta and a good laugh. Hope this meets your demands ;)__

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**The Doctor Dances **

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They were trapped. He couldn't believe it. Trapped in a room with no way out, and their only possible source of escape had gone and abandoned them. Charming. He knew he'd never liked that Jack guy.

The Doctor sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair, thinking. Seven storeys up, no way out. Turning back would mean death, he was certain of it. No gas mask forcing its way through _his_ throat, thank you very much. He'd rather take his chances with the window.

He felt a hand at the back of the chair and Rose behind him. He didn't turn.

"Okay," she said with a sigh. "So he's vanished into thin air. Why is it always the _great _looking ones who do that?"

Talking about Jack, he realised. Another one of her little pretty boys to add to the list, no doubt. She'd better not invite him on to the TARDIS too.

He looked up to her a little incredulously.

"I'm making an effort not to be insulted."

It was true. He shouldn't care what Rose thought. It didn't matter, did it? Nonetheless, he couldn't stop the pang of remorse that flooded through him. It wasn't as if he could control what he looked like with his regenerations. He didn't get offered bits and pieces of eyes and hair and lips, as if he were in a pick 'n' mix store. Nope, he got what he was given. And it had never bothered him before. So why did it bother him now?

Rose waved her hand at him distractedly, as if he'd misunderstood her meaning.

"I mean... men."

Charming. Maybe she deserved that Jack fellow.

"Okay. Thanks." He smiled stiffly, his eyes on her. She seemed not to notice his sarcasm. "That _really _helped."

She looked down to him in time to see the slight hurt on his face. However, the moment was destroyed when the American drawl of Jack floated through the air, interrupting them. The Doctor turned, startled, and noticed an old radio on a shelf on the other side of the room.

"Rose? Doctor? Can you hear me?" the strained, scratched voice of Jack crackled through the old radio grille.

Rose and the Doctor dashed to the radio, staring at it. The Doctor reached his hand out to pick it up - not that he really wanted to hear what the American was saying. _Let_ him bugger off and leave them – who cared?

"I'm back on my ship," Jack continued, "Used the emergency teleport. Sorry I couldn't take you. It's security-keyed to my molecular structure. I'm working on it - hang in there."

The Doctor frowned in wonder; the last time he checked, 1940s radios could not pick up signals from 51st century time ships.

"How're you speaking to us?" he asked, looking up at Rose.

"Om-Com. I can call anything with a speaker grille."

Oh dear. That was not good. Not good at all.

"Now _there's _a coincidence," he almost chirped back to the radio with a sarcastic grin on his face.

"What is?"

He had absolutely no idea, did he? The Doctor's face darkened and his grip on the radio tightened somewhat. He stared intently at Rose.

"The Child can Om-Com too," he answered gravely.

Rose's eyes widened with wonder and fear, the whites stretching all around her irises.

"It can?"

"Anything with a speaker grille," the Doctor repeated, nodding and putting the radio back on the shelf. "Even the TARDIS phone."

Her face fell with shock.

"What, you mean the Child can phone us?" she asked worriedly, and the Doctor couldn't think of anything to say to calm her.

But he didn't have the chance to, because the next second, and eerie, chilling voice floated out of the radio, sending shivers down Rose's spine. She looked at the radio uncertainly.

"And I can hear you..." the voice of the child droned from the radio. "Coming to find you... Coming to fiiiiind you... "

It trailed off, leaving the Doctor and Rose to stare at each other with fleeting fear.

"Doctor, can you hear that?" Jack's voice asked. The Doctor gave the radio a quick glance before looking back to Rose, his blue eyes staring to her boldly.

"Loud and clear."

"I'll try to block out the signal," Jack replied, and there was a smile in his voice. "Least I can do. Remember this one, Rose?"

The child's voice began to float out of the radio again, but Jack did something to change the frequency. Out of nowhere a Glenn Millersong started to play, drowning out the eerie voice of the child. At the sound of the notes, Rose's face contorted a little and her hands began to sweat. She looked away from the radio, forcing down the blush that was taking her cheeks. The Doctor looked to her with a questioning frown.

She looked to him, then turned away again, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"Our song," she explained with a weak smile, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the wall over the top of his shoulder.

The Doctor nodded curtly, but said no more.

I----------------------------------------------------------I

Rose was sitting in the chair the Doctor had occupied not too long ago. That awful song was still playing through the air, though there was no word from Jack. The Doctor stood up on some boxes by the window, holding the sonic screwdriver to the bars and muttering under his breath when nothing was happening.

"What you doing?" she asked with a sigh, letting her body drape loosely over the chair as she swung it from side to side.

The Doctor looked up.

"Trying to set up a resonation pattern in the concrete. Loosen the bars," he answered, before looking back to the wall and hovering the screwdriver over it.

Rose sat up in the seat blinking at him.

"You don't think he's coming back, do ya?" she asked, but her voice wasn't accusing. He could thank her for that, at least.

"Wouldn't bet my life," he replied a little bitterly, refusing to look around, and trying to concentrate on the matter at hand.

She relaxed back into the seat again, her head lolling backwards as her feet rested lazily on the floor.

"Why don't you trust him?" she questioned, her eyes on the ceiling.

What was this? Bloody twenty questions?

"Why do you?" the Doctor shot back irritably.

"Saved my life. Bloke-wise, that's up there with flossing."

He wished he hadn't asked. Inwardly rolling his eyes, the Doctor went back to squinting at the wall. His screwdriver was having absolutely no effect on the bars, and time was running out. He could practically feel Rose's eyes on his back, burning into his skin, but he wouldn't turn around. He just let the music wash over both of them instead and pretended that everything was all right.

"I trust him 'cause he's like you," Rose said suddenly, breaking his concentration. "Except with dating and dancing."

At this, he couldn't help but turn. He looked at her accusingly for a moment. She didn't get it.

"What?"

The Doctor paused. This wasn't a conversation he really wanted, least of all where they were, least of all with Rose. However, he'd started it now, and he knew she wouldn't let him give up.

"You just assume I'm..." he trailed off, motioning his hands.

"What?" she persisted further, staring up at him innocently. His face softened. Why did she really think of him like that?

"You just assume that I don't... dance," the Doctor offered at last, feeling the heat rise slightly in his chest. Well there, he'd said it. She could make of it what she liked. Her eyes widened slightly; oh yes – she'd caught on immediately. The grin that spread out over her face pierced him like an arrow.

"What, are you telling me you _do... _dance?" Rose asked almost teasingly.

The Doctor cleared his throat, only a little offended.

"Nine hundred years old, me," he replied stiffly, turning back to the wall with his screwdriver again. He couldn't look at her. "I've been around a bit. I think you can assume that at some point I've _danced._"

He pronounced dance in a very English way, something which Rose seemed to find hysterically funny.

"_You_?" she practically laughed. He didn't turn, and the muscles in his shoulders bristled as he worked. But he couldn't help giving his head a slight turn: look to her but not _at_ her.

"Problem?" he asked cheerily, pretending there was some joke he didn't get.

Rose gave him a look. "Doesn't the Universe implode or something if you... dance?"

At this, the Doctor almost laughed. However, he made do with grinning to himself instead as the sonic screwdriver buzzed in his fingers.

"Well, I've got the moves," he reasoned with a quick smile. "But I wouldn't want to boast."

Rose grinned at him and hauled herself up from the seat. She made her way over to the radio and turned the volume nod, letting Glen Miller float loudly into the room. The Doctor turned to look at her a little bemused. He watched as she walked over to him slowly, her hips shaking a little, biting down on her bottom lip. He swallowed slightly, his adam's apple quivering gin his throat. Letting out a small breath, perhaps to slow his heartbeats, the Doctor turned back to the wall. Not here. Not now. Please not now. He concentrated on a particularly interesting bit of wall as Rose stopped just below him and held out her hand.

"You got the moves?" Rose asked softly from his side. He couldn't help it. He swallowed again and looked down to her. There she was, looking flirtatiously up to him through her lashes. Did she know how much she made his hearts beat faster? The Doctor found his mouth too dry to speak as he stared at her. Staring, very attractive, he scolded.

"Show me your moves," she continued, not taking her eyes off him

The Doctor finally gained control of himself again and stared at her defiantly.

"Rose, I'm trying to resonate concrete," he said matter-of-factly, hoping that she would take the hint and go away.

But she didn't. She stood there with her hand held out to him like the woman she was.

"Jack'll be back," she reasoned, giving him a quick smile and edging slightly closer. "He'll get us out. So come on - the world doesn't end 'cause the Doctor dances."

She had him. She had him, and she didn't even know it. He gave up, turned off the sonic screwdriver, shoved it somewhat hastily into his jacket pocket and stepped away from the window towards her. His face was unreadable, but it definitely wasn't anything Rose had ever seen before. His eyes were dark and a little clouded. And intense. She wanted dancing? He'd give her dancing.

He took her hands in his and almost heard her breath catch in her throat. They stood for a moment, staring at each other, before the Doctor let his gaze glide to her hands. Hear beautiful, unmarked, pure hands. Wait, unmarked? He frowned and turned her hands over in his, suddenly completely distracted by them.

"Barrage balloon?" he questioned, not looking up.

Rose blinked at him.

"What?"

He turned her hands over a last time before looking up to her.

"You were hanging from a barrage balloon," he told her.

"Oh... yeah," Rose replied, confusion clear in her voice. But she continued nonetheless. "About two minutes after you left me. Thousands of feet above London - middle of a German air-raid - Union Jack _all _over my chest."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at her.

"I've travelled with a lot of people, but you're setting new records for jeopardy-friendly," he informed her, before glancing back down to her hands in his. So small. So delicate. So _clean_.

She watched him intently, a small frown on her face.

"Is this you dancing? 'Cause I've got notes."

Notes? When it came to it, she could leave her notes in the dustbin. Like he needed notes. He'd show her 'notes'. But for now, there were other matters at hand.

"Hanging from a rope a thousand feet above London," he continued, looking to her again. He brought her hands up in front of her own eyes, to explain. "Not a cut, not a bruise."

Rose glanced at her hands held by his, the realisation of what he was talking about finally dawning on her.

"Yeah, I know," she replied, a little off-handedly. "Captain Jack fixed me up..."

The Doctor's face furrowed into a confused and slightly hurt frown. "Oh, we're calling him 'Captain Jack' now, are we?"

"Well, his name's Jack and he's a Captain..." Rose reasoned, enjoying the look playing on the Doctor's face.

He smiled softly, almost patronisingly.

"He's not really a Captain, Rose."

"D'you know what _I _think?" Rose replied, with a small, triumphant grin. "I think you're experiencing Captain envy."

The Doctor, never one to lie, gave the tiniest nod of his head. No point in denying it, after all. She'd only complain about him protesting too much anyway.

He took her hands in his again, this time letting their bodies sway to the music. He looked to her intensely, not wanting to break the contact. What was he doing? He shouldn't be here, like this, with Rose. Dancing only led to one thing...

"So, this is you dancing?" Rose commented dryly as they shuffled backwards and forwards.

Obviously, she was not impressed. The Doctor could feel a great monster surge up in his chest, wanting to prove itself to her. She had no idea the dangerous grounds she was treading on. That they were _both_ treading on. But he couldn't stop. He could only stand there, gazing down into her soft eyes.

"I assure you, Rose," he replied, his voice even but his hearts racing. "This it _not_ dancing."

She blinked at him and he felt her hands tighten slightly. His breath caught in his throat as her leg brushed against his accidentally.

"Then what is?" she asked in that innocent voice.

She had to ask, didn't she? The Doctor felt himself groan internally at her question. His gaze locked on hers, his calm blue eyes raging like a storm at sea. He couldn't deny her. Not now. Not ever.

As the music intensified around them, Rose's body grew closer to his. He could feel her heat against him, feel the pulse of the blood in her hands, and feel the beat of her heart in his head. To suit the moves to the music, her hips touched against his lightly. He closed his eyes and let out a groan, resting the side of his jaw against the edge of her forehead. They were still dancing, shuffling gently around on the floor.

"Rose..." he said quietly, but he didn't know where to go from there. He just wanted to say her name, over and over again, until he couldn't bear to say it any longer.

She pulled her head back slightly and he opened his eyes to look at her. They stopped moving.

"Oh, Rose," he almost whimpered as she stared back at him innocently. She was so young. So naïve. So _his_.

Her hand manipulated itself around his until their fingers slid through each other and locked together. He felt his breath speed up and saw her face flush slightly. The entire universe was staring back at him, all in the eyes of a nineteen-year-old girl. Is that what she saw? In him? The Doctor decided that right now, he really didn't care.

Rose's other hand began to snake its way down his wrist. He shivered. She stood up on tip-toe and leant further into him. She was so close, he could feel her breath on his lips.

"Rose," he murmured, her lips so close to his that he almost touched them when he spoke. Her eyes flickered open.

"What?" she asked softly, staring into him. The Doctor felt his hand work its way to her hip, despite not having the permission to do so. His eyes looked over her entire face before settling on her lips. The hungry look in them was enough to drive Rose wild.

"We can't – " he began softly, but didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

He wasn't sure who moved first. Perhaps they moved as one, together, finally giving in to the temptation that had been coursing through them for weeks. But their lips were suddenly together, breath on breath, skin on skin. It was gentle at first, with just a small amount of pressure. He couldn't let everything he felt for her spill out in one kiss, after all; it might kill her. But her mouth soon moved gently, coaxingly, beneath his and before he knew it, her lips were parting and she was letting him inside her. Just like that. His hand curled around to her back holding her closer to him as he separated his lips, letting his tongue graze gently over her bottom lip. She tasted like every single star he had ever seen, exploding with passion into his mouth like a supernova.

Her hand snaked up to the back of his head subconsciously as he pressed against her gently but passionately. He was so perfect, so unassuming, so _right_ that she never ever ever wanted to stop. And he didn't show any signs of giving up, either. They stumbled slightly, unaware of their surroundings, their bodies only for each other. Their tongues met in a burst of wanton greed as each tried to show the other just how much they cared. The hands that were held broke apart, and the Doctor found himself holding Rose so close to him that he thought she might disappear inside of him. Perhaps something for later, he thought with a grin. Rose felt the smile in his kiss and smiled back, giving every bit as good as she got.

There was a loud cough from somewhere beside them. The two broke apart as if they'd been lit on fire, panting very slightly.

"No, it's all right," Jack said loudly with an amused grin. He was sat in a swing chair, not caring to hide his gloating face. "Most people notice when they've been teleported," he continued when the Doctor and Rose were obviously too lost for words. "You guys are so sweet. Carry on with whatever it was you were..." he raised an eyebrow and gestured with his hand. "...doing."

"We were, um... talking about dancing," the Doctor offered a little weakly, glancing to Rose. How much had Jack seen? But right then, he really didn't care. All he knew was that his hearts were beating so fast he was worried they may actually fly from his chest.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't _look_ like talking," he commented dryly with a wicked grin.

"Didn't feel like dancing," Rose added carefully, staring at the Doctor and licking her lips nervously. He gave her a soft smile, the taste of her still fresh on his mouth. God, he hoped she wasn't expecting him to leave it like that. She'd have a surprise if she did; she'd opened a gate now. She would be his. Forever.

Jack disappeared into the depths of the ship, concealing a laugh and muttering something about parts for the ship. The Doctor looked to Rose and leaned to speak very gently in her ear. Her hair tickled his jaw, and he smiled as he spoke.

"Don't worry. It'll feel like dancing later. Promise."

_**End **_


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